A Different Outsider
by DazzlinPinkLemonade
Summary: The Civil Rights Movement and the events that went along with it before and after it happened in the 1960s, around the time of the Outsiders. So guess who is having a worse time than the Greasers? The black girl who moved to town...read more inside.
1. Prologue

A Different Outsider

_**Summary: The Civil Rights Movement and the events that went along with it before and after it happened in the 1960s, around the time of **_**the Outsiders**_**. So guess who is having a worse time than the Greasers? The black girl who moved to town. After the gang gets to know her better, they notice something strange about the way Becky treats Dally. So is she hiding something? And what about Johnny's doctor, who has seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth? OC. **_

_**(A/N): **__Hi guys! This is my first story. Hope you like it! _

Disclaimer: I don't own Outsiders. Things would be different if I did.

**Prologue**

_**A knock broke the silence of Ponyboy's room. Ponyboy looked up from the book in his hands. He was having trouble staying focused on it and was half glad to break away. This was very unusual for Ponyboy, but then again so was everything else.**_

"_**Come in," he called flatly. **_

_**Darry opened the door. He had a big smile on his face, and, also to Ponyboy's surprise, tears were in his eyes.**_

"_**What is it Darry?"**_

"_**There's some…people here to see you."**_

_**Ponyboy perked up. **_

**Johnny's death…**

Silence. An eerie silence filled the hospital room. Dally and Ponyboy had come back from the rumble, to tell Johnny about their victory. It had been an exciting moment. The triumph and joy of it breaking through the pain Pony and Dally were in. But that's what it had been: a moment.

And now, Johnny's last words sat, hanging in the air. "_Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold_," he'd said.

Dally couldn't take it. He had to do something. So he ran. That was one thing he was good at. And no one would catch him. No one could.

Ponyboy stared down at his body. "Johnny. Please don't be dead. Please," he begged. His voice quavered. "Please."

_It's no use_, he thought. _You're talking to a lifeless body._

So, in a daze, he left, stumbling and crashing into anything he came into contact with. He crashed into a man, Johnny's doctor, as he left the room. He mumbled an apology, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.

Johnny was dead. And there was nothing he could do.

Back in the room, the nurse walked in. By the way his two friends had left so quickly, he must have passed. For a few seconds, she looked down at the poor boy. The one who had rejected his own mother. The one who had saved those kids.

Then she noticed it. His eyes were fluttering.

His voice was so low she almost didn't catch the word. "Dead?" And his eyes opened.

The nurse gasped and backed up into the wall.

"Dead?" he repeated. This time he was sitting up, slowly, brushing the long shaggy hair out of his eyes. That shouldn't have been possible; the flaming beam had broken his back.

"I ain't dead, Ponyboy. Ponyboy? Dally?" Johnny glanced around the room. His eyes fell on the surprised nurse. "Where are my friends?"

"They just left. Because you- But you just…died."

Johnny let that set in for a moment. "They think I'm dead. Ponyboy…Dally. Oh no. Dally. I've got to go."

He _hopped_ out of the bed and onto his feet. In a flash, he was running down the hallway, in only his socks and underwear. But right before he left, he had grabbed something off the bedside table: The _Gone with the Wind_ book.

He ran past nurses and family members pushing patients in wheelchairs. All the way down the stairs. "Ponyboy! Dally!" he yelled.

Then he ran into his doctor. "Johnny." The doctor didn't seem the least bit shocked.

"Do you know where my two friends went? Greased hair. One with greenish eyes and bleached blond hair, the other with white-blond hair and blue eyes?" _**  
><strong>_

"Yeah. The younger one left, crashing into everything he passed. I'm not sure about the other one."

"Glory, I've gotta go. Thanks, Doc."

He began to run off.

"Um, Johnny?"

Johnny turned back. "Yeah?"

"You might want to put on some clothes. I don't think that's legal." Out of nowhere, the doctor pulled out Johnny's clothing and tossed them to him. It was the exact outfit from the accident, permanently stained by ash, but otherwise clean and like it had been before.

Johnny caught the bundle. "Thanks, Doc."

Johnny ran, at the same time pulling on his pants and shirt. Forget shoes. If Sodapop could do it every day, so could he.

Johnny came running up to the Dollar Store, looking for pay phone to call the Curtis house. The lights were still on inside the building, and it was empty except for the clerk and a boy. He was pretty beaten up, like he'd been in a rumble. His light hair was way past tousled and he was fingering a magazine, like he wanted to put it in his leather jacket. Dally.

Johnny ran into the store. "Dally!"

A look of confusion passed over his face. "Johnny? No, I'm losing my mind. Johnny's dead."

"Dally, I ain't dead. I don't know how, but I'm alive and healed."

Dally shook his head, leaning into the support of the postcard rack. He refused to believe it. "I'm losing my mind."

Johnny opened the book and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Read it, Dally."

Reluctantly, Dally took it with shaking hands. He scanned over it quickly before lunging at Johnny…and pulling him into a hug. They gripped each other tightly. Then they walked out of the store grinning. As they walked down the street, Dally smacked Johnny in the back of his head.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"For thinking I would look at a dumb sunset."

Hours later, Ponyboy sat in his room. A book lay in his hands, untouched. Johnny was dead. And Dally was likely somewhere dead or dead drunk.

_No, Johnny's not dead. He's probably in the lot, smoking a cigarette, watching the stars._ And Ponyboy believed it.

A knock broke the silence of Ponyboy's room.

"Come in," he called flatly.

Darry opened the door. He had a big smile on his face, and, also to Ponyboy's surprise, tears were in his eyes.

"What is it Darry?"

"There's some…people here to see you."

Ponyboy perked up.

Dally walked in. "You ain't dead or drunk," Ponyboy commented.

"Well, hello to you too," Dally replied, rolling his eyes.

"Darry said there were some people. As in more than one."

Dally leaned back into the dresser and crossed his arms. "Yeah, Ponyboy. I'm doing fine. I decided not to rob a store or get boozed up."

Pony glanced at the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled. Running a hand through his newly blond hair and laying back on the bed he added, "Look, Dal, I'm not in the mood for games. I don't even know why _you_ are. Johnny's gone and-"

Ponyboy faltered as he heard Dally shuffle across the room and twist the doorknob.

"Dally, what are y-"

"Hey, Pony."

He almost didn't recognize the voice; he'd really thought he wouldn't hear it again. He'd been half expecting that Cherry Valance would walk into the room, but as he sat up he realized how wrong his guess was.

Johnny stood there in the doorway.

Ponyboy's lips moved uselessly, trying to find something to say. He wanted to accuse Dally for playing such a cruel joke or to wake up from this impossible dream. His vision blurred with tears and his shoulders shook. When his sight cleared again, Johnny was still there.

He didn't have time to process any thought or feeling before he rushed his friend. They hugged each other, tears now leaking freely.

The rest of the gang ran in. Two-Bit, Steve, Soda (who was crying the hardest), and Darry came in and surrounded the two. Even Dally joined in the group hug.

Even though they all looked like they were half dead- and felt as bad as they appeared- a small sense of hope was there in the room. Like everything would be okay.

_**(A/N): Okay, so hope you liked it. Review, please!**_


	2. Chapter 1

A Different Outsider

_**(A/N): **__Hey, guys! I know, I took a while to update. So sorry. School has been so busy. Teachers apparently thought that it is a good idea to give all the tests possible before winter break. __ Anyways, thanks to all those who reviewed on this story and my others! _

**Warning**: There is one word in here that may be found offensive. I'm trying to make this story as realistic as possible without getting too foul-mouthed, but I apologize.

Anyway…

_Hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Part 1: The Tulsa Project<strong>

**Chapter 1**

The sun had already set by the time they drove into Tulsa. The sky was beginning to darken and Rebecca watched as people began to trickle into the streets, their figures illuminated by the flickering streetlights. They were mainly teens, all riled up and groomed for the night that had just begun. A few glanced at her auntie's car as they drove by and she was glad that it was just dark enough that they couldn't see in. The last thing she wanted was to be discriminated against before she had been in town ten minutes.

It was a long drive from Shreveport, and both she and her Aunt Ruth felt restless and cramped. The farther northwest they went, the less they were welcome, and many nights were spent laid across the seats of the car. Becky begged to be allowed to drive at night while her aunt slept off the exhaustion of her day driving, but Aunt Ruth was keen on obeying the law.

Even after the night they had to stop in the parking lot of a gas station in the backstreets of Cleveland, Mississippi, on the account of Aunt Ruth's tiredness, she still wouldn't give in. One almost-crash into a telephone pole was enough to help Becky convince her aunt that it was a good time to stop for the night, but it hadn't helped in proving that driving in shifts was a better idea than what they had been doing the past few days.

"I'm going to need practice; I'm fifteen," Becky complained later as she stretched out across the backseat.

"And you'll get practice when I stop through Tulsa from Abilene," Aunt Ruth promised. There was a short pause before she carefully added, "Or…maybe you can look up your father. I'm sure he'd be glad to teach you."

"You obviously haven't met my father."

Becky got a stern (though halfhearted) talking-to about her "sass" from her aunt for saying it. It was the type of scolding she dreaded, the one that started with "look, missy," but she didn't care. Becky had only met her father a handful of times, and they were enough for her to know that he was a dirty, rotten scumbag that she never wanted to hear from- or about- again.

Now, Aunt Ruth sped through Tulsa, heading north. Where Becky really needed to be was on the West Side, but her aunt didn't need to know that. The secret sat on her chest heavily, but she was getting used to the weight. There were many other things that Aunt Ruth didn't "need to know," and the guilt of not telling them was already disappearing.

A good twenty minutes later, the car began to ease into a stop. Becky opened her eyes, giving up the façade of sleep she feigned after they'd left the center of town.

"We here?" she asked.

"Yep."

Sitting forward, Becky glanced under the visor and looked through the front windshield. A squat, gray building with chipping paint sat off to the side of the road, barely a couple of stories high. Instead of the usual fluorescent sign she'd seen outside many of these buildings, a rotted wooden board with painted letters read, "MOTEL." There were only a few windows on the motel, all noticeably black and dirty. The roof sloped a bit, and probably needed to be shingled again. It looked unstable and falling apart, but it was nothing new to her. In fact, this was a step up from many of the motels she'd been in during her lifetime.

"You'll stay here for tonight," Aunt Ruth said, breaking the short silence. "The apartment I arranged for will be ready tomorrow. It's only a couple blocks down."

Becky nodded and leaned back into the seat. The secret- as well as the plan that went along with it- swirled in her mind, and, with doubt beginning to creep in, she wondered if she could pull it off.

_I'll be sleeping here tonight and living in the apartment by tomorrow, just like Auntie wants_, she told herself in an attempt at reassurance. _But…I just have to make a short detour, first_.

Still, the apprehension ate at her. And, feeling her aunt's prying eyes on her, she knew it was showing.

She willed herself to meet her aunt's eyes and to focus on them only. They were a deep brown, much darker and wiser than her own. Where she usually found comfort, she saw exhaustion instead. Small lines were beginning to form around them from all the fatigue and stress of the past few weeks as well. It made her look older, and again the guilt struck her. Auntie had been doing so much for her lately and here she was hiding things from her. Right in that moment, she almost spilled everything. Almost. But then, Aunt Ruth took Becky's hand in her own, and she felt the strength and warmth they still held, and the feeling faded.

Auntie's soft expression hardened a bit as she creased her brow. "You'll be a good girl?" Though it was a question it came out as a statement, in only a way Aunt Ruth could.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered, just the way she'd been taught.

Becky pulled her small suitcase from the backseat, and in the next moment she was standing on the curb before her auntie's rolled down window.

"Tell your mother 'hello' when you visit her at the hospital," she reminded.

Becky's mother had come to Tulsa more than a week before, to be at the hospital where she would "work late shifts" most of the time.

"I will."

With one last smile, Aunt Ruth worked the window crank handle, and the glass rose between them. The car roared to life and began to lurch forward.

Becky watched her aunt go until she was out of sight. She waited a minute to make sure. Then another. She knew that it was time to go, that it was now or never, but the heart racing in her chest betrayed her fear.

She could see the sleepy motel out of the corner of her eye, and she thought of the dusty bed that awaited her arrival, hours from now. It seemed very inviting at the moment, and yet she turned and headed in the other direction. A stop was less than a block down, where a bus, that was soon to arrive, would take her to the West Side, to meet the white man who had promised that her life was going to change.

* * *

><p>"No," Darry said, his tone making the decision final.<p>

"But, Darry-" Ponyboy began to protest.

"You've been out long enough already, Pony. There's nothing more to be talked about. You're heading back on Monday."

It was the Friday evening after Johnny's release from the hospital. The initial awe of Johnny's revival and recovery was wearing off for most of the gang, having been flushed out and watered down by the many celebratory drinks and meals. With most of the celebration behind them, Darry was already doing what he did best: cracking down to business.

The certain business that needed to be attended to at the moment was Ponyboy's schooling. For a while now they'd been arguing over the matter. Johnny had been sitting with them since they first started, and now it was late afternoon. He could tell by the frustration written all over Darry's face that he just wanted to get this over with. But of course today of all days Pony had wanted to be stubborn, and protested to anything Darry had to suggest.

At some point, Dally joined them at the table, straddling a chair backwards and staring off into space. He was quiet throughout the argument, which was strange. He usually took some part in these conversations, if not only to just give Ponyboy a smack upside his head for "being disrespectful." It was more of Johnny's "thing" to sit tight and keep his mouth shut.

Unfortunately, Ponyboy wasn't taking after Johnny very much, and was beginning to object again. But, one look from his older brother shot down any complaint he had.

Johnny glanced over at Ponyboy, who had settled for glaring at the kitchen table in silent annoyance. He spoke up finally, to reassure his friend. "Don't worry, Ponyboy, I'll go with you and it won't be so awful."

Ponyboy's face softened a bit at the idea. Johnny knew he'd be willing to compromise; things were usually less bad when they were together. It was still shocking to think that less than a few days before Pony would have had no choice but to face this- and anything else, really- by his lonesome.

Darry paused, seemingly contemplating over what Johnny had proposed. Johnny knew that he too would go for the idea. Darry usually didn't have a problem with the two of them tagging around together. They kept each other out of trouble, giving him one less problem to worry about.

Darry started to speak, but, Dally beat him to the punch.

"Sorry, no can do, kiddo."

They all looked over at him, surprised at his sudden interest in the conversation.

"Those Socs'll be on your hide if they know that you're out and about again. I think it'd be best if you stayed put for a while."

Having said his piece, Dally went about his business, and pulled out his pack of cigarettes from the inside of his jacket. He put the smoke between his lips before resting his chin back on the chair's top, like he hadn't spoken at all.

"Okay," Johnny mumbled with a shrug. Dally had been in a mood lately, and he didn't dare to say anything against him.

Ponyboy, on the other hand, sat looking dumbfounded. He glared at Darry, then Dally, and then back again. Though he met Ponyboy's eyes with a steady gaze, Darry sat with his lips pursed amusedly, not saying a word back.

"You got something t'say, kid?" Dally challenged having noticed the one-sided stare off.

The question caught Ponyboy off guard, and his face flushed profusely. He didn't even bother to come up with a retort. There was no winning with Dally.

"No," he answered.

Grumbling, Ponyboy got up from his chair, and left the room. Johnny followed, leaving Darry with his paper and Dally with his thoughts…

Friday night ended, and Saturday night passed too, before suddenly it was the night before Ponyboy had to return to school. Soda made chocolate cake for dinner, in an attempt to raise Ponyboy out of his mood, but even that hadn't worked.

The moment the sun went down, Two-Bit left to go hunt some Sunday night action, and Dally disappeared too, saying he'd "checkup" on Johnny's parents while he was out. Now, the house was quiet, with Johnny sprawled on his stomach on the couch, nursing a headache, and Darry skimming the paper again. Soda and Steve were out front, fiddling around with Steve's car in the lighting of the moon and dim porch light. Ponyboy had sat on the front steps watching them for a while until Steve had grumbled that unless he was going to make himself useful he might as well head off inside.

Doing just that, Ponyboy plopped down next to couch and switched the television set on. He searched for something good on the three channels the TV had before settling on _The Flintstones_. Even if it meant that Darry would gripe at him to change the channel when the local news came on at seven, on channel 2, he kept it on because Johnny liked the show and Ponyboy had been watching it since he was a kid.

"How's it going, Johnnycake?" Ponyboy asked, taking his eyes off the screen where Fred Flintstone was pushing his stone car with his feet, in a hurry. Sodapop would love to live in a world like this, where you got to run around barefoot all the time and have tuff cars like these.

"I hurt something awful," Johnny mumbled into the couch cushions, a grimace creasing his forehead.

Ponyboy switched down the volume a couple notches, out of courtesy, before asking, "Wanna 'nother aspirin?"

"Nah, just took a couple not too long ago and it looks like y'all 'most out."

Ponyboy vaguely remembered swallowing half the bottle for his own aches just days before. He nodded and mumbled something about buying some more on his way back from school the next day.

"…_you'll have a gay old time!"_

"Wil_ma!"_

Fred Flintstone beat on the door to his house, after being locked out by the saber-toothed cat, and slowly began to fade from the screen. Darry didn't miss a beat. "Pony, the ne-"

"Yeah, I know," he replied with more sass than Darry probably found necessary.

Much to Ponyboy's relief, he didn't get after him about it, and instead focused his eyes on the TV. A blond woman and dark-haired man appeared, smiling their white-toothed grins.

"Good evening," the woman introduced, "I'm Mary Anne Porter, and this is my co-host Bob Carey-"

Johnny winced in his sleep at the name.

Ponyboy leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes becoming heavy. He didn't realize that he was dozing off until he opened his eyes again and saw the news beginning to wrap up.

The camera was focused on Mary Anne as she said, "…and for our last story of the night-"

Ponyboy looked across the room to find Darry's chair empty. He rolled his eyes, wondering why Darry even bugged him about changing the channel all the time when he didn't stay for the duration of the show. He leaned forward again and began to turn the knob, but something on the TV caught his ear.

"There could be some changes for Tulsa schools soon, Will Rogers High in particular," the newswoman stated. "Due to the many trials against the school boards for being 'unconstitutional,' the Supreme Court would like Tulsa schools- and eventually all Oklahoma schools- to hop on the 'integration bandwagon' immediately. We talked to Tulsa residents, who were parents of students who attended Rogers, earlier today…"

The recordings began to play. They were all interviews from Soc parents, and every single one opposed the integration idea. One particular Soc lady was very adamant, to say the least, and many of the derogatory comments she said made Ponyboy flinch.

Just as he willed himself to change the channel, Soda came bounding into the house, making his way to the living area. As always, his shoes were already kicked off at the front door. Leaning over the back of the couch, careful of Johnny's sleeping figure, he mussed his brother's hair. "Whatcha watchin', Pony?"

His answer came from the TV, as the lady finished very simply, "We don't want no niggers at our schools, period."

Soda's eyebrows shot up in question.

"Darry was watching it," Ponyboy muttered in answer.

Never the one to question, Soda just shrugged it off and went to flip the channel himself, putting it on another cartoon. Ponyboy had had enough TV for the night, and anyway, he had school the next day. He got up and went off to the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Ponyboy woke to someone shaking his shoulders. They were saying his name too, telling him to wake up. He wished they'd stop.<p>

He opened one eye and then the other, letting the room come into focus. Darry stood over him, already in his work clothes. He was the one shaking him.

Ponyboy swatted his hand away and rolled over. "Go away," he mumbled.

Things only went downhill from there.

When he rolled over, he ended up getting a face full of Soda's feet. From the smell of them, he hadn't bothered to change his socks for the past few days. And, to make matters worse, once Pony caught a whiff of them there was no un-smelling the stench.

He buried his face in the pillow and groaned.

At the same time, Darry had finally gotten fed up with Ponyboy and his attitude. One minute, Pony was on the bed, and in the next he was being dragged by his feet out of the blankets and landing with a thud on the floor.

By the time he sat up again, Darry was in the doorway, looking pretty satisfied with himself. "You got ten minutes to be out of this room and into the kitchen," he called over his shoulder as he left.

Ponyboy grumbled and rolled his eyes. Seeing that there was no point in defying his brother again by crawling back into bed, he stood up to get dressed.

He traded out his flannel night pants for some jeans he'd left lying on the ground the night before, and pulled a plaid button down shirt over his white t-shirt. As he changed his socks he couldn't help but send a glare in Soda's direction.

It took him all of two minutes to change. He used the last eight in the bathroom. His hair was the main time consumer. He'd given up long ago on trying to make it stay down; the real problem was its blondness. It was hard to hide, despite the amount of hair grease he'd put on his head. Ponyboy finally gave up as Darry called the two minute warning.

"Done primping?" Darry asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as Ponyboy stormed into the kitchen.

It was all Ponyboy could do not to roll his eyes.

Once he ate his way through two bowls of Cheerios, Ponyboy was out the door. He made his way to the bus stop, which was all the way on the other side of the train tracks; everyone in the gang who had a car had been unavailable. Two-Bit, who had probably appeared at some ungodly hour that morning, was sleeping off a hangover on the floor, and Darry was already gone by the time he finished breakfast. Steve hadn't come over to pick up Sodapop yet, so that ruled him out. That left Dally, but, as usual, he was nowhere to be found. Not that Ponyboy would have bothered asking him anyway.

The bus ride to Will Rogers was quick, and Ponyboy was glad. Apparently, to the Socs, seven a.m. was never too early to give a greaser a dirty look.

As he stepped off of the bus, a sense of dread hit him as he realized that the Socs wouldn't be the only ones giving him funny looks that day.

The day began okay. Most people didn't even recognize him with his short and blond hair. Of course, he had to announce his presence to his classes, and everyone in the room would turn and look at him and murmur. The teacher would shush them and tell them not to gawk, but even they sent weird looks his way throughout the day.

Ponyboy was all but excited when the last period of the day came. It was eighth period English with Mr. Syme, and he was sure he could make it through that.

Ponyboy took a seat in the back of the room, like he had in his other classes, as not to draw attention to himself. He kept his eyes on his desk, bracing himself for the moment when his name would be publicized during roll call.

"Felicia Brown?"

A brown haired girl with a bob cut announced herself as present.

"Allan Cummings?"

Ponyboy looked up just as Mr. Syme's eyes fell on him. His name was next.

"Mark Fanning?"

Ponyboy almost fell out his chair in disbelief. Mr. Syme had skipped his name…

The bell rang, signifying the end of class and the school day. Ponyboy hung back while the rest of the students filed out of the classroom. When the last student had filtered out, he approached Mr. Syme's desk.

"Thank you," he said.

"Anytime, Mr. Curtis," he replied, without looking up from the papers on his desk that he was grading.

Ponyboy awkwardly shuffled his feet waiting to see if his teacher would continue talking or if it was the right moment to leave.

"While...I…have you…" Mr. Syme began saying, to break Ponyboy's unsure silence. He continued to scribble red marks on some student's homework for a few more seconds before turning his attention to Ponyboy. "While I have you, I'd like to talk about your grades.

"Now I realize you've been out for a while for reasons beyond your control…and I know how hard it will be for you to make up the work before the end of the marking period. So instead of having you make up each individual assignment, I'd like to give you a theme."

"A theme?" Ponyboy interrupted.

"Yes, a theme. It can be on any topic of your choice as long as it's longer than two pages. If you can turn it by Friday I can pass you with a _C_."

Ponyboy thought about it. He'd never gotten a _C_ before. Darry would've have grounded him into the next week if he brought anything lower than a _B-_. But, it seemed like it was that or an _F_, and he would never see daylight again if the latter grade came in on his report card.

"Okay, I can do that, I guess," he mumbled.

"Great. I'll see you next class then." Mr. Syme stood up and began to gather his papers.

Ponyboy stepped back from the desk and made his way to the door. "Thank you, Mr. Syme."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Curtis," he called after him.

Ponyboy stopped at the water fountain on his way out. There was a hole in the wall next to it, and a tool box lay open on the ground. He bent to take a drink but was stopped by a man in overalls.

"Water fountain's outta order for now, kid."

A confused look must have passed over Ponyboy's face because the man rolled his eyes and explained, "We're building another one. Now, beat it, kid, I got work to do."

Ponyboy straightened up and walked back the way he came. As he passed Mr. Syme's classroom he slowed. The door was slightly ajar and through the glass he could see that Mr. Syme was in with someone. It was that curly headed kid, Allan Cummings.

"My dad said we're meeting again tonight," he heard him tell the teacher. "He also mentioned something about you needing to decide on a greeter as soon as possible."

Mr. Syme wiped a hand over his face, using the other wave the kid away. "Alright," he replied with a sigh. "Tell him I'll meet him at that back of the diner."

Allan nodded. "Yes, sir."

Noticing that Allan was coming towards the door where he was eavesdropping, Ponyboy sped up.

As he walked away, he couldn't help the curiosity that pricked in the back of his mind. What did Mr. Syme need a greeter for?

* * *

><p><em><strong>(AN)**_**: **_Okay, I hope the ending wasn't too sucky or cliffhanger-ish. Sorry there wasn't much sight of my OC but by next chapter you should see a bit more of her. _

_But, anyway, yay! I finally finished the first chapter! Hope you liked and I will try to update quicker next time. Please R and R. And, again thanks to all those who reviewed and favorited and followed._

_By the way, _The Flintstones _does not belong to me, nor do the _Outsiders_._

_Merry Christmas and (to those of you who don't celebrate it)…Happy Holidays!_

_-DazzlinPinkLemonade _


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